A Few Days At Most
by prepare4trouble
Summary: A few days imprisoned in carbonite leaves Hera with hibernation sickness. It'll get better, but in the meantime she's blind and desperately in need of something to take her mind off things. Kanan tries to help.


A Few Days At Most

Hera tried to stand and felt the room tip, first to her left, and then forward. She tried to keep herself upright, instinctively reaching out her arms to counterbalance, but the floor refused to do what floors were supposed to. It tipped again. She stumbled, her center of gravity thrown out by the unexpected motion, and she felt herself falling.

Strong arms caught her, wrapped around her and helped her back to her feet. "Careful," a voice said, and it took her a moment to realize that it was Kanan.

She tried to steady herself, but the room was spinning, her muscles felt weak, tired and stiff, and she was so cold she couldn't stop herself from shivering. "Kanan…" she said. "What…" then another realization struck her: she couldn't see anything.

"Okay, you've definitely got the side effects. All of them, I think. It'll pass, I promise, but we've gotta go now, before someone notices you're gone," Kanan told her. "Think you can walk yet?"

She gave the question some serious thought. The floor was no longer moving quite so violently; in fact she now realized that it had never been moving at all, that was why Kanan hadn't been affected. Side effects. Of what?

She tried to think back to the last thing that she remembered. She shuddered violently as the memory struck her, the feeling of her body freezing as consciousness was dragged from her, the scream freezing on her lips as the air had been forced from her body. It had felt like dying. How long had she been trapped? How many years? How much of her crew's lives had she missed?

She needed to stop thinking. These were questions she would be able to ask later, when they were home and safe. She blinked against the relentless darkness before her eyes. She wanted to ask whether it was lit in the room, or whether…

She couldn't ask. Kanan might not know the answer.

"I'm going to take that silence as a yes," Kanan said. "But only because we've got no other choice. Ready?"

He didn't wait for a response this time. He gripped one of her hands with his own, and slipped the other arm around her waist and rested it on her hip. He pushed gently, steering her out of the room.

"Okay, keep quiet," Kanan whispered. "I'm hoping we're gonna get out of here without having to fight, because if I let go of you, I think you're going to collapse."

She pursed her lips. She wanted to argue but she couldn't, not only because she needed to keep quiet, but also because she thought he might be right.

* * *

Hera sat on her bed, fingers gripping the side, fighting the urge to hyperventilate. The nausea had receded now, but she could still feel it on the edge of her awareness, threatening to return if she dared to make any sudden movements. The room was still spinning, but more slowly now. She could feel the motion, but she couldn't see it.

Or anything else.

Her fingers gripped the side of the bed a little tighter, a precaution against the spinning room, she assured herself. Nothing more.

The door opened. "It's me," Kanan announced as soon as it did. She listened to his footsteps approaching. The bed dipped just slightly next to her as he sat down. "Here's your water," he said. "Think you could eat something?"

She shook her head, and instantly regretted it. "Not yet," she said.

He touched the back of one of her hands. "Your water," he said, to remind her.

Right. She carefully released her grip on the bed and reached out, with no idea of where the cup was. He caught her hand mid-air, and placed the cup into it. "Don't drink too fast," he reminded her.

She raised the cup to her lips and took a sip. She instantly felt better. She took another.

"Any improvement?" Kanan asked again.

"The room's not spinning as quickly," she told him. She blinked hard, and then again, and again as though she might be able to clear her vision. Nothing. "You're sure the effects are temporary, right?" she asked.

He put an arm around her and squeezed gently, pulling her in toward him. "Sure," he promised. "Trust me, we did our research before we got you out. It doesn't always happen — more likely with low quality freezing machinery apparently — but if you survive the unfreezing process, the side effects only last a little while."

Hera grimaced. "So, the Empire's using shoddy tech," she said. "Figures."

He took the cup from her hands and she heard him put it down on the table near the head of her bed. "Get some sleep," he told her. "It'll help. Or even if it doesn't, at least you'll sleep through some of the symptoms."

He was probably right. Only, if she fell asleep and woke up alone and still blind, she didn't know how she was going to react.

Had she ever done that to him? When he was recovering from his injury, had she ever stayed until he fell asleep, and then left to get on with some task, setting up the base, mission planning, something, and not even considered…

"I'm not going anywhere," Kanan told her. "I promise, I'll sit in that chair and I won't move until you wake up again."

She had done that to him, and remembering it, he was determined not to put her through the same thing. She owed him an apology, not that he would accept it. But that was a conversation for another time, when the room had stopped spinning.

She lay down and closed her eyes, and instantly felt herself drifting off to sleep.

* * *

"How are you doing?" Kanan asked.

Hera looked up, and was stupidly, frustratingly, surprised not to see him. She resisted the urge to sigh. She had slept for a couple of hours, and when she had woken she had still been blind. She didn't want to talk. What she _did_ want was to get back to work. There were things that needed to be done.

"Is everyone else okay?" she asked. They had arrived back at the base while she had slept, and although she was sure that the others were just staying away to make sure she got some rest and privacy, she hadn't seen — heard from — them since Kanan had gotten her out. Not even Chopper. It was unusual.

"Everyone's fine," Kanan assured her. "We just figured you wouldn't want your quarters full of people, or they'd all be here too."

She nodded. She really didn't. For a start, although she was reasonably sure it was tidy in there, she couldn't be 100% certain that there wasn't a pair of underwear unnoticed on the floor. There probably wasn't; she didn't do that, but she couldn't check to make sure.

"Unless you do want them here?"

She shook her head. "No, you're probably right."

It was strange how distracting it was not to be able to see. It should have been the opposite, but she found herself _looking_ at nothing, turning her head, moving her eyes left and right, up and down, as though if she could only get the right angle or catch it by surprise, she would be able to find the light. It didn't work, obviously, and when she realized what she was doing, she was glad that Kanan was the only one there. She probably looked ridiculous.

She didn't know how Kanan could stand it, day in and day out with no visual stimulation. She remembered the mess it had made of his sleeping patterns at first, and the deep depression he had waded slowly into over a period of months. He had come back from that, eventually. Perhaps if she had enough time, she would get used to it too, but she couldn't imagine that; neither going without sight for so long, nor growing used to it.

"Are you…" she began, but stopped. She had been about to ask Kanan whether he was certain that the effects of the carbonite were temporary, and she didn't need to do that. Kanan had already told her that it was, twice, and he wouldn't lie to her, not even to protect her. She just found that she suddenly wanted the reassurance, the guarantee that this wouldn't last forever.

"Am I what?" Kanan asked.

She shook her head. "Nothing."

She hated this. The complete lack of visual input was making her frustrated and angry, but worst of all, it was making her afraid. She had flown ships into battle, she had gone undercover in Empire territory, she had made a jump into hyperspace through the middle of an enemy ship. And here she was, sitting on her own bunk, in her own quarters, on her own ship, and _now_ she was afraid.

She hadn't even been afraid of the dark as a child.

Which made her wonder, _was_ it dark? There would have been no reason for Kanan to switch on the light when they had come into the room, and she didn't remember doing it either. Maybe her sight was improving; all of the other symptoms had faded away. Maybe she could see just fine, but nobody had thought to switch on the light.

"Kanan, is it dark in here?" she asked. She probably could have checked for herself, but she didn't know how. She didn't know the position the switch should be in if it was on, and how it differed from if it was off. Kanan might.

"Dark?" Kanan sounded confused for a moment, then he sighed. "I'm an idiot," he said.

She heard the click of the lights switching on. Other than that, nothing happened. She still couldn't see. Or maybe the black before her eyes lightened to a dark gray, she wasn't sure.

"Not anymore," he said. "Is that better?"

She shook her head. "Not yet," she said, and tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

It didn't work.

"I need something to do," she said. It didn't matter what, forced idleness was making the whole situation worse. It didn't even have to be work. She just wished that she could read, or…

"I'm available," Kanan told her. She could hear a smile — a grin, more likely — in his voice.

She narrowed her eyes in his direction, for all the good that would do. That was _not_ what she had meant.

"Hey, hey, sorry," Kanan said; she imagined him holding up his hands, palms forward as though to defend himself from her glare. "That's a death-glare if I ever sensed one. I _meant_ I'm available to talk; get your mind out of the gutter!" He paused briefly, as though considering things. "Although, if the other symptoms have gone, there's no reason why we couldn't…"

She sighed, loudly and pointedly. Of course, Kanan would know _that_ was the last thing on her mind right now, he was just trying to make the wait more bearable. And he was succeeding too. Of course, she couldn't really complain, especially not to Kanan. She was having to put up with this for a few days, he had been living with it for over a year, and would continue to do so for the rest of his life. Anything she could say, any expression of frustration or irritation, would pale in comparison to his experiences.

Which was frustrating too, in a way, because she did want to vent. Not as much as she wanted to _see_ , but enough that the inability to do so was a little stifling.

"Well, if the other symptoms _have_ gone, I could get you something to eat," Kanan suggested. "Or we could both go, there's no reason you have to wait this out in here."

She imagined herself walking hesitantly through the ship that she knew so well, her hand running along the wall, her feet barely moving off the ground, her teeth gritted as she concentrated on the act of not walking into anything. It wasn't an appealing thought.

"Hera? Are you okay?" Kanan asked. He suddenly sounded worried. She didn't know what she had given away, or how, but he had picked up on something.

"I'm fine," she told him instinctively, barely even processing the question before she gave her stock reply. She was always fine, no matter what happened. Always had been.

He was next to her suddenly; she hadn't noticed him moving across the room. He didn't sit down, not this time. Instead, he took her hand in his own and pulled gently. She hesitated for a moment, then followed him to her feet.

"It's okay," he told her. "Believe me, I know how much fun this isn't."

She shrugged. "At least the room stopped spinning," she said.

Kanan paused, or possibly hesitated. Without being able to see him, she couldn't tell what was actually happening, and she hated it. She hated not being able to see him.

 _Temporary. A few days at most. Don't panic._

"How much do you trust me?" Kanan asked.

She frowned. She trusted him completely, but there was something in the tone of his voice that made her wonder whether she would regret it if she said so right now. "Why?" she asked instead.

Kanan didn't answer. Instead, he turned around, putting his back to her, and lifted her hand as he did. He placed it on the back of his arm, just above the elbow. "This is going to feel weird," he said. "You're going to be convinced you're about to walk into a wall, or trip over something on the floor. You won't; I won't let you, but I won't be offended if you want to wave your other arm around in front of you to make sure."

It took her a moment to realize what was happening. "Wait," she said. "Are you…"

"You said you wanted something to do," he said. "That was the worst part for me too. Well, some of the time that was the worst part. There was nothing I _could_ do, because I didn't have the skills I needed yet. That gets better, by the way. You'd be surprised how quickly you'd pick things up if you had to."

She didn't doubt it. She was also glad that she wasn't going to have to, because the one skill she wouldn't ever be able to get back was flying. She couldn't use the Force like Kanan could; he could do things without sight that she would never be able.

But that was okay, because her sight was going to return.

"We're not going to have time for me to teach you how to do everything, obviously," Kanan continued, "and even if we did, what would be the point? But what I can do is keep you from spending a few hours or days sitting there trapped inside your own head, because I happen to know that's no fun either."

She nodded. He wasn't wrong. "I'm okay," she insisted.

"Good. I didn't say you weren't. I mean, waking up after five days in carbonite and finding that you can't see? That sounds great. Who _wouldn't_ want to do that?"

That wasn't funny.

"It's temporary."

He turned back to face her at that. Her hand dropped away from him and she folded her arms self consciously, creating a barrier between them.

"It is," he agreed. "So…"

"So it's not a problem. I can cope for a few days."

"I don't doubt it. And it probably won't even be that long."

She nodded; she knew that. She looked around. The area where the light came from seemed as though it was slightly lighter than the rest. It wasn't much, but it was something.

"So, considering what a great example I am of what _not_ to do after going blind, and considering how very 'okay' you're feeling right now, do you want to go for a walk?"

She both did, and did not. On the one hand, she wouldn't be able to stand it, just sitting in her quarters in the dark for much longer, but on the other there would be nothing to see on the other side of the door either. She knew her ship well, but it was one thing to find her way around the Ghost in the dark when she was either alone, or when everyone else had no light either; this was quite another.

She made herself smile. She didn't really feel it, but she wanted him to hear it in her voice. "Okay," she said. "So, how do we do this?"

She knew already, in theory. They had done it before, but the other way around of course, when he was newly injured, back when he had needed it. Somehow, without even discussing it, they had worked out a series of cues that she had used to tell him what was coming up, or rather what they needed to do about it. Pulling her arm in toward her body told him to get behind her to make room for someone passing in the other direction, because the way was narrow, or because there was something on the ground that he needed to avoid. Moving it out to the side told him that he could move back again, moving further still told him that he _should_ move out. Anything more complex had been handled by Hera simply telling him what he needed to know; that the ground was uneven, or that they were about to go up or down a step.

"I think the best thing is just to do it, figure it out as we go. We'll try it out around your quarters for now, then if you want to, we can head outside. The others are eager to see you." He paused, then continued with a hint of a smile in his voice. "I'm betting the feeling's mutual."

That wasn't any funnier than his last joke.

Kanan placed her hand on his arm again. He patted it with his free hand and pressed lightly, supportively. "Ready?" he asked, then without waiting for a response, took a step. She followed him. She kept her other arm straight by her side, determined to prove him wrong about searching for obstacles, but he wasn't wrong. Even knowing the area as well as she did, it was difficult not to believe that she was about to walk into a wall, or a chair, or something that she had carelessly left out in the middle of the floor.

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Kanan took a few more steps, and then stopped. He turned around to face her and placed his hands on her shoulders. She realized when he did that she was shaking; a combination of adrenaline and good old fashioned fear.

Temporary. It wasn't going to be forever. A few days at most. She could do this.

"Hera?" Kanan said, noticing.

"It's just the carbonite," she told him quickly. "More side-effects."

It wasn't.

"I know," Kanan told her. "Too tiring? Want to sit back down?"

She shook her head and grabbed his arm again. "No," she said. "I'm fine. Let's go see the others."

Kanan didn't ask again. He set off toward the door, Hera following half a step behind him. She heard the door open, and they stepped outside.

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(bonus post-credits scene)

"Hey, want to know something bad about being blind?"

Hera frowned. They were lying side by side on her bunk, facing up to the ceiling. If there was one good thing to come out of this, it was that Kanan had opened up a lot more suddenly. It felt as though he was sharing things with her now that he had been keeping to himself. It was like she had gotten a piece of him back that had been missing for a long time.

She frowned. The grey before her eyes had softened further now, allowing shapes and contrast. No colors yet though. "Is it not being able to see?" she asked, in all seriousness.

Kanan sighed. "Way to ruin the punchline," he said. "Want to know something good about it?"

She frowned again, stumped this time. She turned to face him, and saw very little change in the image before her eyes. "What?" she asked.

He sighed again. "You were supposed to say 'yes', and I was going to say 'me too'," he said. "Never mind, terrible joke."

It really was. She would probably have laughed anyway.


End file.
